Meanderings: August 27, 1999

Friday,
August 27, 1999
Day Two

Oh, God, but it's good to be back at a con. I wandered around, bought way too many books and a sandalwood fan, and sat in on a couple of good panels like Intermediate Writing, where John DeChancie gave an absolutely excellent piece of advice -- a great way of getting your first novel noticed is to read Locus, find out when a new editor starts at one of the publishing houses, then send the MS to her or him. Since they're new, chances are they'll have more time for perusing an unsolicited manuscript. Good tip.

The sandalwood fan also had a bit of plotting behind it -- I've learned that most room parties can be extremely hot and sticky. Fanning yourself is a great way of staying cool and dry, and it tends to be a nice icebreaker if you want to meet someone and they're obviously suffering from the heat. And using a sandalwood fan means that the fanned air is going to smell good, a significant point when you run into a few folks who really, really need a shower (and there are always a few of them at a con).

I think the only disappointment of the day was that there didn't seem to be any way of getting the SFWA Musketeers together to practice (or, hell, just meet each other). I knew Vera from LACon III and LoneStarCon II, and I wound up running into a couple of other Musketeers in the hallway, but there didn't seem to be any firm plans on when we could meet and rehearse. Unfortunately our Captain was already on her way to Australia by that point, so she couldn't pull rank and whip our butts into a spare meeting room for some cutting and thrusting. Oh, well -- we'll just have to see about scheduling some time before ChiCon 2000 gets underway.

While I was wandering around being a good fan, Lyndon spent the day harrassing this poor Cal Tech student at the Mars Society table (he's a big proponent of Nerva and using nuclear engines in spacecraft, and kept arguing with the kid why using chemcial rockets to boost a ship to Mars simply wasn't gonna work) and roleplaying with some very dedicated Jedis. We finally managed to meet up during the evening's worth of room parties. A revelation for the non-congoer -- room parties are probably 75% of the reason why most sociable fans go to cons. Yes, having a well-stocked dealer's room is nice, and of course the panels are a good draw, and if you like costuming then the Masquerade is definitely for you. But if you just want to hang out, eat, drink, and talk until the sun comes up about pretty much anything under that particular sun, then a science fiction convention room party is the place to be.

And my God, but the conversation was good in the SFF.Net room party. SFF.Net had sprung for a suite, and Vera Nazarian and Tippi Blevins were the co-hostesses who were busy passing out Russian salad, guacamole, hummos, chips, dips, candies, sushi, you name it and they probably had it. Since SFWA wasn't hosting a suite at NASFic, most of the pros and BNF turned up at one point or another, and between the yummy food and the fact that writers tend to be a garrulous bunch, there were knots of people in all three rooms talking, arguing and laughing at the tops of their lungs. Lyndon and I wound up sitting on the bed in the main room -- well, okay, lounging on the bed would be more accurate -- while we chatted with folks about the Mars mission, needlecrafts, and writing SF smut for fun and profit.

Oh, and of course someone had a laptop and was running an IRC link to SFF.Net so that non-attendees could enjoy the party remotely (ironically, the IRC crowd was much smaller than usual because most of them were already in Anaheim). At one point, a famously Rabelasian editor was sprawled on a bed, surrounded by five fondly tolerant women as he ordered the IRC typist to report that SFF.Net was hosting an marvelous orgy. If I remember correctly, someone else reported later that the orgy was a ceremonial prelude to sacrificing the editor to the Gods of Publishing. Oh, the japes and capers of that evening.

I think I finally staggered off to bed around 1:30 am, which is remarkably early for a con, but the last of the jetlag was making my eyelids slam shut. And I still didn't get a chance to swim in that marvelous pool. Maybe tomorrow. . .

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